Feria Scrutum Trash Day
by naughtyscrabble
Summary: Hunting is not an exact science, is it? The boys make a VERY unexpected kill.


**Feria Scrutum **_**(Trash Day)**_

Title: Feria Scrutum (Trash Day)

Author: naughty

Rating: PG13

Genre: Gen / Humor

Summary: Hunting is not an exact science, is it? The boys make a very unexpected kill.

Characters: Dean and Sam

Spoilers: none

Warnings: language

Disclaimer: I have absolutely no rights to Supernatural, John, Dean or Sam...not even the Impala...damn it. I only worship them from afar.

Feedback: My only compensation for my humble literary efforts (other than the sheer joy of writing) are comments from _you_, dear reader. I live for them - they keep me going. I truly value your thoughts and opinion - tell me what you love, what you hate, even if just a word. I will be forever grateful. p.s. If I don't respond to your comment right away, please don't be offended - I'm probably up to my neck in Winchesters...uh, I mean, another story. I'll get back to you.

**********

_Durango, Colorado_

_January 9, 2009  
_

"Great, a rat."

"What?"

"We've got a rat."

"WHERE?!!!" Dean bolts from his chair, where he's cleaning his 9mm. His eyes nervously dart around the room.

"You didn't see it?"

"Did you hear any screaming? NO, I didn't see it!"

"Dude, you're such a wuss."

"Yeah, remind me next time we see a clown."

Dean grabs the shotgun and checks the kitchenette and bathroom. " You sure it wasn't just a tiny, little bitty..._mouse?"_

"Dean, I know the difference between a rat and a mouse. In fact, it's a Norway rat."

"Oh, a Norway rat? Well, that makes it all so much better. I was really concerned it was just a _common_ rat. Thank you, Jack Hanna." He looks daggers at Sam and rolls his eyes.

"Why couldn't it just be a freakin _mouse?" _Dean grumbles just under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing - we need to get the biggest friggin traps they make. And glue traps. And poison. And rat motels."

"Dean - that's _roach_ motel."

"Yeah, we need some of those, too."

"We'll stop by the hardware store after lunch."

"After lunch? SCREW THAT!!!"

Before Sam can say a word, Dean grabs his keys and jacket and is out the door.

**~ One hour later ~**

_THUD. THUD. _

"What the hell..." Sam opens the door.

Dean is laden with bags in both hands, a six pack of Shiner beer under one arm and a large bag of Arby's hanging between his teeth. As he strides in, he drops the Arby's bag into Sam's hands.

"Dude, what the crap did you buy?"

"Six Roast Beef sandwiches with Horsey Sauce, two extra-large fries and a one-way ticket to hell for our resident rodent. You know, Sammy, it'd be a lot cheaper if we just shoot his ass full of rock salt."

Sam belly laughs, as he watches Dean empty all the bags onto the table. "Dude, we have ONE rat! You bought an arsenal! That's enough to take out the whole species!"

"Ain't taking any chances, Sammy! That rat's going down - along with any of his buddies!"

"Jeez, how many traps you get?" Sam tosses Dean a sandwich.

"Twenty-five regular rat traps, twenty glue traps, twelve poison bait stations, one ultrasonic rodent repellent, six electronic traps and one roach motel." Dean smiles around a mouthful of roast beef.

"Dude. Overkill much?"

"What?!!!"

Sam just shakes his head and grins, pops the top on two Shiners and hands one to Dean.

"You get cheese?"

"Cheese?"

"For the snap traps."

"Uh, no."

"Peanut butter?"

"Rats eat peanut butter?"

"They love peanut butter."

"...no."

"So, what you gonna bait those snap traps with, Great Hunter?"

Dean frowns thoughtfully and takes a big swig of beer.

"French fries."

"What? Are you serious?"

Before Sam can shoot holes in Dean's plan, his brother's already hard at work, baiting the traps with bits of French fries...some with ketchup, some without - then strategically placing them all over their motel room.

Sam watches his brother in amused fascination. "Dean, why are you putting traps around your bed?"

"No rat's getting to Dean Winchester while he sleeps."

Sam throws his head back and laughs. "Are you sure we're related?"

"Sure we are. Where do you think you got all your smarts?" Dean smiles and tosses the ultrasonic unit to Sam. "Plug that in, would ya?"

**~ 1 a.m. ~**

Dean wakes from a sound sleep. _Freakin beer_. He stumbles out of bed towards the bathroom.

"SON OF A BITCH!!!"

Sam jolts awake and flicks on the lamp. "Dean?"

Dean is frantically hopping around on one foot, cursing a blue streak, a snap trap hanging from his toes.

Sam laughs. "HA! Told you that was a bad idea!"

"Shut up!!!" Dean hops off into the bathroom and slams the door.

Sam laughs hysterically, tears streaming from his eyes.

"SHUT UP!!!"

**~ 3 a.m. ~**

Dean wakes again.

"_Nomini Dominus et Magister Sanctus Omnis, rogamus et votem incantatio, detestatus sum et caesus daemon rubra, pestelencia malifica et nefaria, linga balbuttire, incommoda, odius, irrita..."_

Dean flips on the light and drags himself out of bed to nudge Sam hard on the shoulder.

"Sam! Wake up! You're talking in your sleep again!"

"_...forca mus et ratus malus et miniatura, nos imperium id neco et misi id infernum in aeternum, Nomini Patri et Spiritus Sanctus."_ ***

"SAM!!! WAKE UP!" Dean shakes him hard.

"Wh...what?..." Sam is barely coherent.

"Dude, you were reciting some weird, freaky Latin incantation. Something about a special curse and shrinking stuff to miniature size and evil, demonic rats...what the hell were you dreaming, Sammy?"

Sam, still in a sleepy stupor, just stares at him, perplexed and bewildered.

Dean lets out a long sigh. "Never mind, Sammy." He pats him on the shoulder. "Just go to back to sleep. No more spells, OK?"

**~ 5:30 am ~**

_**SNAP!!!!!!**_

Both boys lurch awake at the sharp, loud noise from the kitchenette. Sam almost knocks the lamp over turning it on. Confused and disoriented, they look at each other, then grab their weapons.

"Dean, wait." Sam rubs his eyes, trying to clear the cobwebs. "I think we caught something."

Bleary-eyed, Dean swings his legs over the edge of the bed, frowning and carefully planting his feet around the traps. "You mean one of your evil, itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny Norwegian rats?"

"Huh?"

Dean laughs and grins, as he limps painfully to the bathroom. "Nothing. Go see what we caught, Sammy."

"_HOLY FREAKIN SHIT!!!" _

Sam finally makes his way towards the bathroom, carefully picking his way through the minefield of traps.

"Uh, DEAN!!!"

"Hang on." Dean finally opens the bathroom door, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"What'd we get, Sammy?" Dean stares at Sam's shocked expression. "Damn, bro, you look a little pale. You OK?"

"Well..." Sam swallows hard. "Let's just say it's _not_ Norwegian and it's _not_ a rat." He holds up the rat trap.

"_SON. OF. A. BITCH!!!" _

Dangling from the trap is a rat-sized, miniature..._RUBY_.

Bug-eyed, Dean almost chokes, as he swings around and spits toothpaste into the sink. "You've GOT to be friggin kidding me!!!"

Both boys just stand there, mute, staring in fascinated horror...or amusement...they can't decide which.

Ruby's lifeless eyes are glazed over - well, more than they usually were. The powerful steel bar lies tightly clamped over her neck, almost flattening it. Dried blood makes dark scarlet trails from her nose and mouth onto the wooden trap. She clutches a piece of french fry in her cold, stiff hand.

"Hey, she totally went for the ketchup!" Dean grins.

Sam grins back. "Holy crap, Dean. I never thought she'd end up like THIS."

"Couldn't be more fitting! What a freakin GREAT way to start the new year, Sammy!"

**~ 5:45 a.m. ~**

The brothers, in heavy sweaters, jackets and gloves, are standing together in a small clearing, in a wooded area behind the motel. Snow blankets the silent landscape, while the frigid air causes the boys' breath to condense with every breath.

At their feet lay the dead, trapped Ruby, her expression (or lack thereof) frozen in time.

"Think maybe we ought to...uh, say a few words?" Sam looks down at the tiny, now harmless, demon, the bane of their existence for so long.

Dean thoughtfully considers the question, as he stares down at this once miserable, annoying nemesis, now vanquished in the most humiliating, delightful way.

They turn to look at each other...then bust into huge grins.

"NAH!!!"

Dean swiftly sprinkles salt over the diminutive demon, once known as Ruby, then Sam quickly splashes a bit of gasoline over everything.

"Dean, the honor's all yours." Sam proudly hands him the box of matches, as they both step back.

"No way, Sammy. This honor should be all _yours!_"

The brothers look at each other, deliriously happy to be in the middle of such a quandary.

Finally, breaking into a mega-watt smile, Dean takes a match and hands one to his brother. "Ready when you are, Sammy!"

Both strike their matches, glance at each other with gleeful grins, then toss the flaming matches in unison.

_POOF!!!_

Ruby is instantly engulfed in an explosive, brilliant, fiery orange and blue flame.

The boys watch, freezing their tails off, until the fire completely burns itself out and nothing remains but a blackened pile of ashes and small, twisted bits of steel.

Dean dumps the rest of his cold coffee over the smoking embers and they sizzle into silence. Sam scoops up the soggy, black mess with a small trowel into a dustpan, which he then empties into a wastebasket his brother holds.

Dean removes the small white garbage bag, twists it around with a flourish and ties it into a hard knot. "Sammy, I'm freakin STARVING! What'ya say we get some breakfast?"

On the way to the small diner down the road, they walk past an open dumpster, into which Sam artfully tosses the garbage bag.

**~ 6:00 a.m. ~**

The boys sit at a window booth in the warm, friendly diner, surrounded by hot coffee, orange juice and heaping plates of bacon and eggs, cottage fries, biscuits and gravy and pancakes with real maple syrup.

"Ya know, Sammy, I don't think food's ever tasted so friggin good, do you?"

Sam grins his special brand of Winchester grin, as he mops up some country gravy with a flaky biscuit. "Never."

Just then, the unique and unmistakable sound of a garbage truck comes their way.

"_Trash day!" _The Winchester boys couldn't be happier, as they lean over to peer out the window, excited as six year olds in a pile of puppies.

"More coffee, boys?" Their smiling waitress asks.

"Yes, ma'am, we'd love more coffee."

Sam stirs cream and sugar into his steaming mug, then looks up with a mischievous grin towards Dean. "Hey, Dean, how's your toes?"

"Shut up."

**~ end ~**

*** I totally cobbled this whole incantation together. Very roughly, it says:

"_In the name of the Lord and Ruler of Everything Holy, we ask and pray for this incantation, we call down this solemn curse to smite the demon Ruby, an evil and wicked pest, of lisping tongue, annoying, boring and useless, to be trapped like a tiny, evil mouse and rat, we command her death and send her to hell forever, in the Name of the Father and the Holy Spirit." _


End file.
